


a single sight of you

by hidley



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post November, Reunions, Snuf hibernates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26295760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidley/pseuds/hidley
Summary: There had been so little of him left after that, after the moment he realised that he was not waiting for the family; he was waiting for Moomintroll. And neither Mamma nor Pappa could tell him when he’d be coming back.——Snufkin waits.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 25
Kudos: 118





	a single sight of you

Snufkin felt his emotions in his gut. He held them close as he worked out what went where and what to do about them, before letting them down once he was satisfied and moving on.

Occasionally, there was the odd thought that wouldn’t let go and would cling and swing from him like lichen until he was forced to sit down and have it out with it. These pesky blighters were few and far between, and he had never knew of them at all until he met Moomintroll.

When he had fully accepted that the Moomins had left Moominvalley, there hadn’t been a single part of him that wasn’t reeling over the fact. His gut was in turmoil; not a single stubborn emotion would sit down, stop moving, let go or shut up for a moment and he wondered at length if this was what it felt like to go mad.

Toft would wander around the valley looking vacant, and the house was disturbingly quiet, the November guests having up and left long ago. The small boy stayed, longer than Snufkin would have preferred, but he had his distractions and bizarre idiosyncrasies to keep him busy until Moominmamma and Moominpappa returned on a boat that was not _The Adventure_ , with Little My clinging to the mast like a screaming, red hurricane lamp.

There had been so little of him left after that, after the moment he realised that he was not waiting for the family; he was waiting for Moomintroll. And neither Mamma nor Pappa could tell him when he’d be coming back.

The Moomins had hurried back into their house, making preparations for their usual hibernation with a kind of anticipation that Snufkin had never understood. Pappa’s previous restlessness had been swept away, and he doted on his wife more than ever. Mamma, at first, seemed tense, but soon relaxed as more of her home settled in around her and the garden had been given a good weeding.

Little My had left within a week; off to her sisters without a goodbye. Snufkin walked up to the house one day to find her gone, and the last of his control slipped away soon after.

Mamma had found him, of course, and brought him back to the house. Together, she and Pappa packed up his camp, brushing the snow off the tarp and digging out the pegs that had frozen into the ground. The tent was folded with care and tucked beside the fireplace and Snufkin was fed, watered and put to bed in the guest room, where he slept for three months.

* * *

The time Moomintroll had spent away had been... vital. That’s what he had settled on. Not perfect, not even particularly daring, but vital.

There had been so much unhappiness in him that he hadn’t noticed until he was sailing away from Pappa’s island. It lifted from his shoulders and he sighed around a breath he hadn’t known he’d needed to take.

He was alone. The sea and the stars had no interest in what he did or how he did it. There was no one to prove anything to or compare himself against. The wind died down too low one day and he drifted for an entire afternoon and it didn’t matter, because he decided just to sit and wait for things to improve whilst he played in the water. 

His father wasn’t there to make a huge deal out of their hopeless situation and Mamma wasn’t there with her good intentions, insisting he not give up. Not even Little My was around to whine about how boring an adventure it was or Sniff to lament their inevitable deaths or Snufkin to—.

Well. Being with Snufkin would have been much the same as being on his own, he was sure. They would have perhaps made a little joke of it, and his friend would have played his flute to pass the time, but Moomintroll was certain that there would have been no haste, no drama, no disaster. Just a shrug and maybe a nap. A sense of peace with one’s situation.

Moomintroll had cherished being alone, having finally understood why it was so important, but even so many months at sea had done little to convince him that life wouldn’t be better with Snufkin by his side.

He docked on the edge of Moominvalley on the last day of winter.

The sea was motionless as he cast out a rope onto the decking, hopped out and immediately slipped and crashed down into the cold, damp wood.

He lay for a moment, staring up at the sky, rope in hand and leg twisted underneath him. A huff escaped, giving way to breathlessness and he clutched his chest as laughter boomed out of him like thunder.

He was home. 

Moomintroll hauled himself up again and tied _The Adventure_ up tight.

A deep, heavy feeling ebbed away at his chest but he kept his attention on the boat, calmly securing the sail and sorting out his various belongings, packing most of it away in the hull but removing the odd box and moving it to the deck, ready to place into the boathouse for storage.

It was deathly quiet. The valley he had left had been in the throes of autumn, bustling with life as everyone hurried to get everything ready before winter began. Moomintroll wondered idly if Mamma and Pappa were still asleep or if they were up, waiting for him. He hoped so.

With everything packed and where it should be, Moomin sat on the dock, legs dangling below him as he tried to decide if he was glad no one had come to meet him, or disappointed.

The silence he had learned to love these last few months had gone undisturbed, and he certainly didn’t want an entire party waiting for him.

But he felt as though he had done something pretty extraordinary, going off on his own for so long. He’d learnt so much and felt so different and where there was once indignation and impatience there now only lay a quiet anxiety for all the things he now knew were possible.

Moomintroll tucked his chilled paws underneath him, staring straight out to sea.

The world he had been so comfortable with seemed like a dream to him now. Endless fields and warm baths, gentle assurances and soft covers. Playmates and adventure whenever he wanted them. Peace and quiet when he did not.

It had been wonderful, a haven. Something that he hoped to find precious again someday.

Because he hadn’t missed it. Not really.

Maybe on some nights when the wind howled and the wind beat down on his tarp he wished for the warmth of Moominhouse, or when his third oar broke and he cursed Pappa not being there to help, or when he was run out of a seaside town for not wearing the right clothing, of all things, and he thought of how accepting and safe his valley was and how he wished he was back there—

Except. It never lasted. 

Because after the storm came a wave of shimmering fish below his boat that kept his belly full for a week. And after that oar broke, his fourth was the strongest he’d ever made. And once he’d returned to the town fully dressed, he had met the most wondrous and unusual people who showed him things he’d never even dreamed of.

Because for every thing that went wrong, it led him to something good, and new, and special. And nothing like anything that had ever happened in Moominvalley.

A wind picked up and blew through Moomintroll’s fur. He shivered and a great feeling of grief descended upon him like silt.

Maybe he hadn’t been away long enough.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come back.   
  


* * *

  
The single trill of a lark roused Snufkin from hibernation. The sound plucked him from a hazy, liquid dream and into the dense quiet of Moomintroll’s bedroom.

His eyes opened and settled on the wooden floor. His boots, one on its side, sat there and after a few minutes, Snufkin could see them breathing.

 _Perhaps Little My has taken a nap in them_ , he thought, before remembering everything.

November and nummulites. Snow covering the windows. Panic. A blocked door. A tired, desperate move upstairs. That might have been in January.

Snufkin shifted his head and got a heady smell of his own fur, mixed with something he’d rather not think about.

The birds continued to call him from the window, and the light coming through the glass was golden, not grey.

 _Spring_ , Snufkin realised. The first day of spring.

He didn’t move for a long time. His body felt dead, wounded. Like he had been shot and he was just waiting to fade away.

But his mind was clear, his hanging fears quiet and still.

He listened to the world waking up and took deep breaths, counting each one.

On the twentieth, he closed his eyes.

On the hundredth, he got up.  
  
  
  


 _Moominhouse should never be quiet_ , Snufkin thought, as he crept down the stairs into an empty kitchen.

Everything was still shrouded in dust covers and the front door was open, banging gently against the latch. Snufkin caught it and pushed it open.

The world was reborn. The grass shone through the last of the snow and the sky burned blue above his head. He counted the last of his breaths and ran out into it, wringing out his sleeping body and filling his lungs with light and warmth once more.

Snufkin dashed over the bridge and fell down onto his back at his campsite. The longing in his heart to leave was as far receded as it had ever been and he had never even left the valley.

He laughed out loud, and then curled up into himself and wept for the first time since he was a kit.

He was soon interrupted by a violent twist in his gut. A surge of adrenaline that left him breathless. Snufkin rested a hand over himself, and wiped his eyes.

 _Okay_ , he spoke to it. _What do you need me to do?_

It led him out into the forest. His bare feet padded over the softening ground, stumbling over roots and lost belongings and his eyes never left the horizon. The wind urged him on, and he began to run.

It was taking him to the sea.

* * *

Moomintroll fiddled with the rope that tied _The Adventure_ to the dock, his mind a swirling mess.

Should he really leave again? It would be easy; no one even knew he had returned. But spring had called him back like something he couldn’t explain. It was like he had ridden the wind all the way home, a compass pulling North.

He wanted to be here. He loved Moominvalley. He felt a longing that he hadn’t let stop him from leaving but that pulled him back all the same. And it had been bliss to allow it.

Clarity washed over Moomintroll then, like a cloud breaking in the sky.

He didn’t need the valley anymore, but he wanted to return to it all the same. 

_Oh, Snufkin_ , Moomin thought with sudden devotion. _I understand now._

And once that thought had passed, an onslaught followed.

Was Snufkin back yet? Was there time to sort out the house before he arrived? Had his camping spot dried out? Would he be happy to see Moomin? Would he be proud to hear what he’d done?

Moomin sighed and set his chin atop his paws. 

Had he missed him?

 _Ah_ , the troll thought with some chagrin. _I suppose some things don’t change._

Not that he had ever expected, nor really wanted, his feelings about Snufkin to ever fade. There were some things he was content to let stay the same.  
  
Delight curled in his gut as he closed his eyes, thinking for a moment only of the mumrik.   
  


* * *

A branch snared at Snufkin’s dress and he snarled at it, his heart frantic. The trees thickened as he came closer and closer to the edge of the woods.   
  
The awakening creeps watched blearily as he leapt over their dens, thundering through the quiet. A lark swooped down to catch his tail wind and twittered in delight as it soared upwards, breaking through the canopy just in time to watch a young Moomin jump up to the sound of Snufkin’s cry.   
  


* * *

  
“MOOMINTROLL!”

Moomin’s head lifted from his paws with a jerk toward the sound. A swell of not-so quiet anxiety spiked so fiercely he caught his breath, before it melted into a joy so encompassing that, for now, it swept all his reservations away. He scrambled to his feet and ran up the dock towards the green shadow coming through the tree line.

“Snufkin,’ he gasped. “Snufkin! Oh!”

He spared a thought for his dignity, but his friend was running toward him with an expression he’d never seen on Snufkin’s face before and Moomin shed the last of his adolescence on the snow behind him and lifted Snufkin straight into the air, spinning them round and round, their laughter splintering the silence like bells in a church.

 _He smells like home_ , Moomin thought first. _Like the earth_.

 _He smells like home_ , Snufkin thought then. _Like the sea._

They pulled back but not far, eyes drinking in the sight of each other.

“Where have you been?” Snufkin cried.

“Where are your shoes?!” Moomin replied. “There’s still snow on the ground! You must be freezing.”

“Not at all!” Snufkin grinned. “I just woke up.”

“W-Woke up? What are you— are those pine needles in your hair?” Moomintroll reached up and brushed a paw over Snufkin’s head with a little frown.

”Well, maybe. I —“

”Is that your old night dress?” Moomin asked, baffled. 

“It is, but —“

”And where on earths your hat?”

“Oh never _mind_ , Moomintroll!” His voice cracked open. “Never mind!”

Moomin’s attention pulled back and his paw moved down to the side of Snufkin’s face. It was all he could do to keep from stroking the fur there.

“I left,” he said. “I saw the world. Or at least, some of it.”

“And?” Snufkin pressed the paw closer to his cheek. “What did you find?”

Moomin’s eyes widened a touch, before following the gentle instruction, sweeping his thumb across the mumrik’s skin. 

“Courage,” he replied. “Though not enough of it, it would seem.”

“That’s okay. You’re still the bravest Moomin I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve not met many Moomins.”

“I don’t need to.” Snufkin’s eyes had never been so close to him before. “I have you.”

Moomin laughed. “I don’t think you’re making sense, Snuf.”

“I missed you,” Snufkin said. “And forgive me, but I might love you too.”

“Might?” Moomin blurted, sounding strangled. “I — I think if we are being brave we should only say things we mean.”

“Ah, but you see,” Snufkin breathed. “You were the one who found courage. Not me.”

“That’s true enough. Okay, how’s this:” Moomintroll took a shuddering breath. “I think I’ve loved you from the moment we met and there isn’t a single thing in the world that would make me happier than if you felt the same.”

He was very proud that his voice only shook toward the end.

Snufkin’s mouth opened but very little came out, and nothing coherent. He pressed himself closer to the soft heat of the troll’s chest and felt his insides twist. A swell, then sweet surrender. 

“You ‘think’?” he teased, his face tucking into Moomin’s neck.

Arms pulled him in closer. “I love you.”

“Good,” Snufkin said, only trembling a bit. “I’m not sure what I’d have done otherwise.”

“Like there was ever any doubt,” Moomin murmured. “It was always you. I was just distracted.”

“But not anymore?”

Moomin nuzzled into Snufkin’s hair, eyes misting and the deep, heavy feeling in his chest settling like a cat on a stovetop.

“No,” he said. “Not anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> (Please kindly ignore the fact that Moomintroll sails on a sea that would have been frozen that early in the year.)
> 
> Wow! Man. Writing. Don’t do that very often. 
> 
> I really love this. I spent twenty four hours with it when I was desperate to post it after two but I’m glad of it. It gave itself up slowly and ended up being quite different to how I imagined but I love it all the same. 
> 
> Please drop a comment if you have time, and Happy Autumn!


End file.
